There comes a time in a Mother Hen’s life when she knows she just has to let go. Along with other milestones in her chicks' lives, such as starting nursery, going to ‘big’ school and leaving home, she knows that at some point they just have to stand alone and can’t be watched 24/7. Boarding the ferry to the Isle of Wight this weekend on the way to visiting friends, I was grateful as I witnessed other parents struggling with babies and toddlers, bottles, buggies and bags that I was long past that stage. My eldest has left home and started a new job, Middle Child was beavering away at her studies at home (or so she reassured me she would be after the party on Saturday night) and my Bonus Third Child taking up the last place in the car, squashed between me and his surrogate aunty. The long weekend of self indulgence stretched ahead of me. Parking alongside the other vehicles on the car deck we gathered our things ready to dispense ourselves into the crowds. O.H. was dispatched post haste to secure seats for us on the deck above; surrogate uncle, the driver, wrestled with the boot to unload the Saturday papers, cardigans and cake while I intended to meander to the coffee queue to obtain the required fix for us all. It was with some degree of haziness I registered the tannoy announcement asking for the owner of the silver Nissan to ‘please return to the vehicle as the alarm has been activated’ ten minutes later. I looked at my friend. Her face fixed with recognition as she listened to the announcement again. ‘That’s our car!’ she exclaimed. I looked around our small group of five. I counted three. Turning round to scan the cabin for the others, our driver and Bonus Child were laughing as they approached us. ‘Thanks for leaving me behind,’ Bonus reprimanded us. ‘You locked the car and I couldn’t get out. I had to knock on the window and get the deckhand to help but he couldn’t hear me because the alarm was so loud.’ ‘But I thought you…’ I accused O.H. ‘I was up here,’ he answered in his defense. ‘I thought you…’ ‘Didn’t you check the car was empty before you locked it?’ I asked our driver. ‘He was bending down doing up his shoes. How long does that take? Anyway it must have taken at least 10 minutes for you two to get yourselves out of the car. I thought he’d gone ahead,’ he proclaimed. Later as I headed back to the coffee queue the man in front of us looked around at my son. ‘Are you the poor lad stuck in the car?’ He asked. ‘I wondered how you would get out.’ Thanks for that, I wanted to answer. Just perfect. How to make me feel even more guilty for leaving him behind.

Let me just qualify here and dig myself out of my place as the worst mother in the world. Bonus Child is nearly 15 years old. He is 6ft tall, has size 12 feet and is Head Boy at his school. All attributes I feel that meant I could begin to relinquish my 24/7 watch on his movements. I don't think he's going to use this experience as evidence against us in court, nor is scarred for life. Like most growing Inbetweeners he was more concerned with whether we’d left any food in the car to see him through his ordeal. But it seems this Mother Hen will be counting her chicks out and counting them in again for just a little while longer.

*smiles* Very cute. I assure you that if my 15 year old is ever found to be locked in the car it will be on purpose. He's my difficult, head-strong child. He does get straight A's and never gets in trouble... I suppose I shouldn't complain too much, huh? :)